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The rose that lives its little hour Is prized beyone the sculpted flower.

William C. Bryant

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William C. Bryant
Flower
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Sculpted
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Rose
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More quotes by William C. Bryant

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I grieve for life's bright promise, just shown and then withdrawn.
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It is said to be the manner of hypochondriacs to change often their physician.
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On my cornice linger the ripe black grapes ungathered Children fill the groves with the echoes of their glee, Gathering tawny chestnuts, and shouting when beside them Drops the heavy fruit of the tall black-walnut tree.
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Truth gets well if she is run over by a locomotive, while error dies of lockjaw if she scratches her finger.
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The linden, in the fervors of July, Hums with a louder concert. When the wind Sweeps the broad forest in its summer prime, As when some master-hand exulting sweeps The keys of some great organ, ye give forth The music of the woodland depths, a hymn Of gladness and of thanks.
William C. Bryant
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Thou who wouldst see the lovely and the wild Mingled in harmony on Nature's face, Ascend our rocky mountains. Let thy foot Fail not with weariness, for on their tops The beauty and the majesty of earth, Spread wide beneath, shall make thee to forget The steep and toilsome way.
William C. Bryant
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Christ taught an astonishing thing about physical death: not merely that it is an experience robbed of its terror but that as an experience it does not exist at all. To sleep in Christ, like one that wraps the drapery of his couch about him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
William C. Bryant
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Error's monstrous shapes from earth are driven They fade, they fly--but truth survives the flight.
William C. Bryant
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The right to discuss freely and openly, by speech, by the pen, by the press, all political questions, and to examine the animadvert upon all political institutions is a right so clear and certain, so interwoven with our other liberties, so necessary, in fact, to their existence, that without it we must fall into despotism and anarchy.
William C. Bryant
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Sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
William C. Bryant
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The fiercest agonies have shortest reign And after dreams of horror, comes again The welcome morning with its rays of peace.
William C. Bryant
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Or, bide thou where the poppy blows With windflowers fail and fair.
William C. Bryant
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Flowers spring up unsown and die ungathered.
William C. Bryant
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Poetry is that art which selects and arranges the symbols of thought in such a manner as to excite the imagination the most powerfully and delightfully.
William C. Bryant
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It is a sultry day the sun has drunk The dew that lay upon the morning grass There is no rustling in the lofty elm That canopies my dwelling, and its shade Scarce cools me. All is silent, save the faint And interrupted murmur of the bee, Settling on the sick flowers, And then again Instantly on the wing.
William C. Bryant
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But Winter has yet brighter scenes-he boasts Splendors beyond what gorgeous Summer knows Or Autumn with his many fruits, and woods All flushed with many hues.
William C. Bryant
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And at my silent window-sill The jessamine peeps in.
William C. Bryant
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Ah! never shall the land forget.
William C. Bryant
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All things that are on earth shall wholly pass away, Except the love of God, which shall live and last for aye.
William C. Bryant
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The journalist should be on his guard against publishing what is false in taste or exceptionable in morals.
William C. Bryant